James Maxey - Greatshadow

I poked my head back through the door to tell Relic that it looked like the temple had been claimed by the volcano. I flinched when I found the Gloryhammer flying toward my face. Fortunately, it passed straight through my nose and sank into the two-foot-thick slab of stone I was ghosting through. Shards of rock flew everywhere as cracks spread across the surface. I drifted aside as Tower brought the hammer around once more, delivering a second blow. The door crumbled. He kicked aside shattered rock and looked down the shaft on the other side.

“There are no stairs,” he said. “I do see a green glow far below.”

Green? I looked back down, and found that the previously orange light was, in fact, green. As I watched, the green broke apart into blue and yellow swirls, which were washed away by waves of purple. If this was lava, it was like no lava I’d ever seen.

“Missing stairs are no problem,” said twin squeaky voices. A pair of squirrel-sized spider monkeys jumped to Tower’s shoulders. “I’ll check it out,” they said, before leaping into the shaft, bouncing back and forth across the gaps in the stone where the bone stairs once stood.

Since stairs were optional for me as well, I decided I’d beat Menagerie to the bottom of the shaft. I dropped down, passing them, the heat growing in intensity as I descended. The disk of light at the bottom continued to change colors and patterns in a chaotic, unpredictable fashion.

My ghost skin tingled as my body emerged from the shaft. What I saw defied my understanding. Relic had said the temple was in a crystal cavern, but this didn’t look like any cavern I’d ever been inside, and there wasn’t a crystal in sight. Imagine, if you can, a large, turbulent cloud, ever-changing as it drifts across the sky. Now imagine what it would look like if you were inside the cloud. The stone around me was an undulating, amorphous shape. The walls looked solid, despite their refusal to stand still or maintain a single color. The room was full of bones, no doubt the remnants of the stairwell. Fragments of skulls, femurs, and chalk-white teeth were scattered in all directions, resting on the ceiling and walls as well as the floor, though if I wasn’t looking at the round opening of the stairwell, I couldn’t be certain what was a floor and what was a wall. I closed my eyes, since the shifting walls left me feeling seasick. It didn’t help. I lost all sensation of what was up or down. My ghost form had only a tenuous connection with gravity at best, but here there was nothing at all to orient me. Fortunately, when I envisioned the bone-handled knife, I felt its familiar tug.

I turned my face in its direction, glancing back up the shaft. The spider monkeys had reached the opening to the room, staring at the chaos with wide eyes. Further up the shaft I saw a shadowy figure clambering down the walls like some human spider. As it drew nearer, I saw it was Zetetic.

The monkeys glanced up. Perhaps feeling a sense of obligation to be first into the room, they jumped, dropping lightly to the writhing stone. The monkeys stumbled as the stone shifted beneath them. Though they didn’t sink, it looked as if they were riding waves. One of the monkeys managed to rise on all fours, his tail wrapped around a shimmering polka-dotted stalagmite, but was toppled a second later when the pillar sank back into the surface. The confused monkeys tapped the stone beneath them with their knuckles, then rubbed their tiny fists. The stone was hard, despite its fluid nature.

The Deceiver’s head popped out of the shaft and looked around. He dropped onto the shifting floor and landed on his knees, giggling. “By the unanswerable questions! False matter!” He looked around, delight in his eyes. “I saw a nugget of it once, preserved inside an enchanted pearl in the palace of the mer-king. I had no idea that such a large volume of the stuff still existed!”

The monkeys had been carried by the shifting floor until one now stood perpendicular to Zetetic, while another was surfing a wave of stone fifty feet away. The monkey near Zetetic looked slightly green as it said, “What the hell is wrong with this place?” He rode the chaotic stone higher, until he was looking straight down on the Deceiver. “Shouldn’t one of us be falling?”

The Deceiver shook his head. “Ignore your eyes. Think of down as whatever direction you point the soles of your feet.” Zetetic rose on trembling legs, holding his hands out to steady himself. His eyes were closed. A few seconds later, he cautiously opened his eyes. He grinned as the monkey was carried back and forth on currents of stone. “Imagine you are perfectly stationary. You are the center of your world, and let the room orbit around you. Everything is relative here.”

The monkey responded by vomiting. The clear, frothy broth pooled around his feet. He closed his eyes and moaned, “Make it stop.”

Zetetic shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say to help you. Your body is made of true matter. It still obeys the same physical rules it always has. You can control your physical response with simple willpower.”

Menagerie was still two very sick little monkeys by the time No-Face, Relic, and Father Ver made it down the shaft on a rope ladder. No-Face and Relic were quickly toppled by the changing landscape. Father Ver managed to remain upright as he dropped from the shaft, frowning as he took in the bodies in motion around him. He responded by holding out his arms and turning around slowly. The stone in a ten-foot disk beneath him flattened out and stopped moving.

He crossed his arms and said, in a firm tone, “I’m standing on the floor.”

No-Face, who was directly overhead, suddenly plummeted onto the circle of motionless stone, landing at the Truthspeaker’s feet. The monkey who’d been speaking with Zetetic leapt from his perch on the wall and landed on No-Face’s chest. I had no idea where the second half of Menagerie had gotten to. It was impossible to estimate the size of the chamber. It seemed to stretch out for miles, but the rules of perspective were completely useless. Relic was just a little speck, seemingly a hundred yards away, then he reached out and tapped the edge of his staff onto the circle that Ver had calmed and suddenly he was close enough to touch, crawling onto the island and collapsing next to No-Face.

Zetetic didn’t seem bothered by the sudden emergence of a floor. He continued to ride the shifting stone, as surefooted as a forest-pygmy on a swaying vine. “Fighting it is only going to make you more disoriented.”

“Fighting falsehood is my sworn duty,” said Father Ver. “The truth of what has happened here is plain. The pagans corrupted the true matter of the cavern, infecting it with falseness, which has flourished in isolation. In the beginning, before the Divine Author dipped the sacred quill in the holy ink, matter was devoid of such truths as width and length and breadth. By worshipping false gods, the ancient priests weakened the walls surrounding them. The stone has gone feral.”

“This is going to shock you,” said Zetetic, “but I concur. We’re surrounded by the original stuff of creation, matter unshaped by mind. With practice, we could mold it to anything we can imagine. This is the greatest treasure we’ve yet discovered, far more valuable than gold, and you’re wasting it by turning it into mere rock.”

“Stone must learn to respect the truth that it is stone,” said Father Ver, striding forward, calming more of the undulating rock into smooth gray solidity. Soon, he had an oblong island fifty feet long and a few yards wide frozen into rather mundane looking granite.

Relic pulled himself back to his feet and said, “At least there is no question that we have found the perfect location to attack the dragon’s spirit. In a place like this, we should have little difficulty ripping the veil between the physical and the spiritual worlds.”